No Clue
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: When Luke Alvez finally decorates his desk it's with a single picture. Upon further investigation, the team has some questions for him, but he has no clue what they're talking about. Completed one shot.


**Disclaimer: They're not mine. Not mine at all.**

* * *

You stalk into the bullpen on a regular Tuesday morning. Coffee in your left hand, right hand gripping the shoulder strap of your backpack. You've got a smile so bright on your face that it could light up this room. There's a skip in your step, and you make a beeline towards your desk, raising the cup to your lips and taking a long gulp of the coffee.

You set your backpack down on the ground near the desk, still devoid of personal effects, and immediately get to work.

"We have a case!" She says zooming past him in her short skirt and heels. You find your gaze following her, not really hearing what she is saying. You're focused solely on her, and find yourself following her anyway, remembering at the last second to grab your coffee.

You're tripping over your feet to follow her, and you glare at JJ who's laughing after you.

"Just tell everyone already." She says to you as you let her walk in front of you.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

"So the fact that your eyes are shifting to the window in order to see her..." she looks at you and your eyes focus on her before flicking to the open blinds and landing on her face. "Yeah, and you totally didn't just relax when she was in your line of sight again."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about." You continue to deny the accusation.

"Whatever you say, Luke. Whatever you say." She says laughing, walking into the conference room as you stand outside of the conference room for a few seconds longer. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

"About time you got here, Newbie." Her voice washes over you and before you can help it, a large smile breaks out across your face. You shake your head at her, gesturing with your hands to carry on. She looks at you for another second before turning back to the TV.

"Boston, white men in the 20's are walking out of bars and disappearing into the night. They eventually turn up about a week later in the Charles River."

* * *

It's a Wednesday a month later when you're sitting at your desk typing up a case file when she breezes past you again. She's halfway up the stairs and your eyes have locked in on her.

"We have a case." She calls out, racing into the conference room. You watch her walk towards the table, bending over to grab the remote, and from the view, you harden. You groan as you adjust yourself under the desk and stand, making your way to the conference room.

"It's hard not to fall for her." You hear from behind you. "She exudes happiness." You find yourself nodding, still staring off after her.

"There's no rule against inter office relationships in the FBI. We've yet to have one in the BAU but it's not frowned upon." You turn to look at Spencer.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You say to the younger man, who laughs in turn.

"Sure, and I don't have an IQ of 187," Spencer says, jogging up the steps to the conference rooms. You take a few seconds to calm yourself, scolding yourself about being so blatant. You find yourself running up the stairs trying to slip into the room unnoticed but before you know it all eyes are on you.

"You gonna make this a trend, Newbie?" She asks chuckling. You shrug, reaching out to pick up the remaining case file off the table. You turn your attention to her and once she's sure she has your undivided attention, she continues.

"Kansas City, single mothers with blonde daughters and being poisoned. The daughters survive, mothers don't."

* * *

It's a Saturday when you're ushered unceremoniously out of bed by the shrill ring of your cell phone. You roll over and answer it, letting the covers slip from your body.

"Alvez." You answer, reaching up to run your fingers across your chest. You scratch at the hair that's located between your pectoral muscles.

"Newbie! Good morning, we've got a case." She sings through the line. "Now put some clothes on and get in the car."

You're already standing and walking to the shower. You're nodding and realize stupidly that she can't see you. You yawn.

"I'll be there in 30." You say disconnecting the call and turning the shower on. You waste 15 minutes relieving yourself of the issue just her voice caused you.

You show up with wet hair and in jeans and a t-shirt. She's standing in front of the elevator in a tight dress and black heels and you groan inwardly, wondering why you're being tested in this way? What did you do to deserve this? You have to admit to yourself that she looks damn good in that dress, but you put those thoughts out of your head as she hands you a case file.

"You're late again." She says, her fingers lingering for a second too long on your hand and you smile at her licking your lips. You nod but follow her anyway.

"Boulder, young boys are disappearing, no clear racial lines, but they're all 13." She says and you walk her to her office door before you turn to walk into the conference room.

"Luke," she calls out. You stop and turn around to look at her. "Be careful out there, okay?" You nod at her, tapping the folder to your chest.

"Always, Penelope." And then you're gone.

* * *

It's a Monday, you hate Mondays, and you find yourself exiting the elevator to complete chaos. She's racing out of her office, running through the glass doors, that you're holding open for her.

"Case! Case! We've got a case." She's shouting over the noise of the too full bullpen. You can see the sadness in her eyes. Emily is standing beside you, and before you know it she's laughing at you.

"It's okay." She says. And you turn to look at her briefly, before hiking your bag up higher on your shoulder. You shake your head, but your eyes immediately snap back to her. You open your mouth to deny it, but she stops you.

"Don't lie to me, Luke." She says before walking away. You stand there for a while longer, catching your breath before you walk into the bullpen, dropping your bag on your empty desk and walking into the conference room.

"That's 5 points from Gryffindor for tardiness, Newbie." She says and you laugh out loud before turning your attention back to the TV.

"Who says I'm a Gryffindor?" You challenge her. She motions with her hands to your body, indicating the reckless behavior you often excel in.

"It's scandalous." She replies before turning back to the TV.

"Caribou, men are disappearing after their significant others are strangled and left in the bed in the middle of the night. The men show up three days later, also strangled. In the closed off crime scene." You linger behind to take one last look at her. She's gathering leftover paperwork. And you clear your throat.

"Something you need, Luke?" She asks and you shake your head before turning to walk out of the door.

"She's a Slytherin," Rossi calls out. "Whatever that means."

"More like a Hufflepuff." You reply stopping on the top step before turning back around to get one last look at her.

* * *

It's a Sunday when you're sitting down at your desk that she comes walking over and sits down at the chair you keep pulled up just in case. She starts tapping her fingers against your desk, silently demanding your attention. But you continue to work on your case, peeking up at her when she's not looking. She huffs, finally flicking your hand causing you to mistype the word.

"Yes, Miss Garcia?" You say. Sitting back in your chair and turning to look at her.

"I want to go out to dinner." She says, crossing her long legs that aren't covered in stockings. There's a shine to them, and you find yourself wanting to run your fingers up her calves. You find yourself wanting to kiss her calves, bite the flesh that she puts proudly on display. You shake your head, turning to look into her eyes.

"Dinner?" You repeat, chuckling at her and licking your lips.

"Did I stutter, Newbie?" She responds. You lean forward, pushing your sleeves up your arms.

"No, you didn't."

"Good, pick me up at 8." She slides a piece of paper across the table at you, it's housing her address. "Next week, because we have a case." She takes off to the conference room, and you laugh at her. You run your fingers through your hair, before shutting down your computer.

"You've got it bad, Luke." Comes a voice behind you. You stand, clipping your gun to your belt, and turning to look at the person.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Tara." You say, turning to follow Garcia into the conference room. "And if I had a clue, she'd be the first to know."

* * *

It's a Thursday morning when you walk into the office holding two cups of coffee, stopping off at Penelope's office to give her the second cup. You walk into the office, placing the coffee on her desk, and reach down to kiss her cheek. She smiles, turning in her chair to catch your lips with her own.

"Good morning, handsome." She whispers against your lips. Your heart is thumping wildly in your chest and you're wondering how much longer you can keep this a secret. She kisses you again and a quick third time before she rolls away from you.

She reaches under her desk to pull out a black bag, handing it off to you with a flippant remark about how she was the best gift giver ever. You smile at her, taking the bag and opening it.

Your smile grows wider as you pull out the picture. You stutter a bit as you turn to her.

"I'm...I'm going to go put this on my desk right now." You say, tapping the picture against the palm of your hand. You stand and place your hand on her shoulder.

"I know, I'm amazing!" She says and you laugh walking out of her office. "Wait, we have a case!" She yells at you as you're walking out of the door.

It's a Thursday morning when the other members of the BAU watch Luke walk over to his empty desk and place a picture on the blank surface. The frame is silver with the words _**Happily Ever After**_ engraved at the bottom.

Upon further inspection, it is discovered that the picture is of Penelope, Roxy and yourself standing on a beach with the ocean in the distance.

"Luke?" Spencer calls out after you walk away, and you turn around to look at the team crowding around your desk. "Are you and Garcia married?" He asks scratching his head.

You chuckle, watching as your wife walks into the bullpen with an arm of case files, you reach out for them and allow her to walk up the steps in front of you.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."


End file.
